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monalyisha 's review for:
Ghachar Ghochar
by Vivek Shanbhag
My feelings about this Indian novel-in-translation are “ghachar ghochar”: all twisted up.
Confession time: I don’t typically love books in which unlikeable characters abound. It’s one of my secret literary shames. 🙈 So, this novella - about a codependent family that loses their kindness when they fall into wealth — wasn’t my favorite. Still, the writing is strong.
I loved the scenes set in the Coffee Shop with Vincent, the totally average or demigod (depending on who you ask) waiter who worked there. They were quirky, and clever, and wry. But they were also the most dispassionate.
Speaking of dispassion, the protagonist is horrible and weak, and he knows it. His sloth, cowardice, and lack of conviction make him unbearable. The tenderness that is lost and withheld in this story — the casual cruelty that is enacted — is devastating.
I would have much preferred it had there been some glimmer of hope, or some suggestion that the MC might grow in strength & become a better person. But there is none. And, I guess that’s life. That’s realistic. But that doesn’t mean it’s not depressing AF.
Ultimately, I enjoyed this novel because of its sly power, critique of class & gender, & its ambiguous ending. There’s a single, powerful passage that I suspect will will haunt me for a long while (the masoor dal curry spattering on the sidewalk; a woman’s shame). Despite this not being my kind of read, I’m still glad I picked it up.
Confession time: I don’t typically love books in which unlikeable characters abound. It’s one of my secret literary shames. 🙈 So, this novella - about a codependent family that loses their kindness when they fall into wealth — wasn’t my favorite. Still, the writing is strong.
I loved the scenes set in the Coffee Shop with Vincent, the totally average or demigod (depending on who you ask) waiter who worked there. They were quirky, and clever, and wry. But they were also the most dispassionate.
Speaking of dispassion, the protagonist is horrible and weak, and he knows it. His sloth, cowardice, and lack of conviction make him unbearable. The tenderness that is lost and withheld in this story — the casual cruelty that is enacted — is devastating.
I would have much preferred it had there been some glimmer of hope, or some suggestion that the MC might grow in strength & become a better person. But there is none. And, I guess that’s life. That’s realistic. But that doesn’t mean it’s not depressing AF.
Ultimately, I enjoyed this novel because of its sly power, critique of class & gender, & its ambiguous ending. There’s a single, powerful passage that I suspect will will haunt me for a long while (the masoor dal curry spattering on the sidewalk; a woman’s shame). Despite this not being my kind of read, I’m still glad I picked it up.